Under The Rain
by samuraichikx
Summary: We never know how much something means to us until we almost lose it.


"How are you enjoying Chicago Lemon? Jack relaxed in his chair for the first time in what seemed like hours. His only sane employee had decided to take a trip to Chicago (Well, not decided. He had pushed her into going for the three day reunion of her improv group, eventually convincing her that the show could last for one day if she were gone) and had left him alone to deal with her insane staff. Of course, there was some bribery involved, particularly in the food department, but Jack liked to think he had still possessed the persuasive powers he had while in the bubble. He still considered it worth it, seeing as now Liz would come back relaxed, being with her type of people.

"You know what, this is actually pretty fun." She answered, well, mumbled as she was clearly chewing on something _real Cheetohs_ he hoped. "I'm glad I came, this is much more fun than that night with those whittling IHOP monkies. Right _Larry Braverman?"_

Jack laughed, "Very funny Lemon. Now when is your flight tomorrow, I can arrange a car to pick you up."

Liz took awhile to respond. He heard muffled voices and a deafened laugh coming from the other end of the line and then Liz's voice alight with laughter. "What? Oh no don't worry about it Jack. I'll just take a taxi home."

Jack set his elbow on the desk, sititng in a more serious position. "Lemon, I insist. I was the one who saw you off on this little vacation of yours, I intend to see it through to the end."

"Really? Okay, if you want to Jack. I'll be on the 7:00 out of Midway. Oh, gotta go Jack, they're playing New Choice!"

"New Choice?" Jack asked half curious, half-wanting to delay her from doing whatever it was that she as about to do.

"It's an improv game, look I'll see you tomorrow, Jack."

"Well that sounds good for both of us, thank you very much sir."

"Thanks..hey wait!"

"_Goodbye_ Lemon." he smiled boyishly.

"Bye Jack."

He relaxed back into his chair grinning, before immediately returning to a thousand other things that demanded his attention.

***

The next day, Jack walked into his office after denying Jonathan's invitation to have lunch together for what seemed like the millionth time. Jonathan had been wearing another particularly thick coat of cologne again, and had nearly caused Jack to asphyxiate before grabbing the morning paperwork.

He set the papers down on his desk and took off his coat, shaking it free of water once he had made it to the bathroom. Al Roker had apparently decided to mis-predict every weather pattern over the last week, which had resulted in Jack having to go through various wardrobe changes once he made it to his office. He came prepared today though, a long jacket in tow despite the promise of sun. It began to sprinkle once he had left his apartment.

He checked his watch: 9:00. Meaning that Liz's plane should have taken off about an hour ago. Everything was going to plan, and should be a normal, boring morning.

As much as he loved the idea of Liz finally being able to relax, he looked forward to when he would be able to go down to her office for whatever reason. As weird as it sounded to him, her strange little eccentricities and neuroses that he never understood had come lighten his day. Despite some of the headaches they knew they caused both of eachother they seem to have formed an unbreakable bond of friendship and that, despite their fierce independence they had both come to grow on eachother in time.

He turned on his TV on the back wall, hoping to catch a glimpse of how the DOW was doing. Having found the channel he seeked, he set down to work.

Hours later, still having the good will of not having to deal with an imminent problem caused by either Tracy or Jenna, Jack was editing a spreadsheet on his computer when he heard the news anchor.

"Breaking news: tragedy strikes as a routine flight from Chicago to New York this morning crashed in rural Michigan."

Jack immediately turned his head to the TV, fearing the worst.

The anchor continued, "No reports have indicated foul play on part of the pilots, though some have reason to suspect exhaustion by both the pilot and co-pilot. No survivors have been reported.

Jack sat, frozen. Liz's flight, crashed. Gone. _Liz...gone_. He immediately picked up the phone and tried to call her, praying that it was the wrong flight that she would still answer. He prayed he would get to hear her voice, her bright happy voice cracking a joke. It immediately goes to voicemail.

Jack swore, getting up as fast as he could and instinctively going to the only place he knew where he could talk to someone.

He walks in on the writers watching The Today Show, covering the same story and analyzing the overabundance of airline crashes in the past year and somehow connecting it to pilots' average salary.

Jack realizes only too late that the one person he could talk to about this was the one person whom he was worried about the most at this very moment.

He stood at the end of the writers' table, gripping the end chair with white knuckles trying his hardest to compose himself. "Where's Lemon?" he asks with a shaky voice, already knowing the answer.

Frank answers, sporting a hat that says 'No Fat Chicks', not tearing his eyes from the screen. "She's in Chicago."

"Had anyone tried to call her? Get in touch with her, I can't have my head writer skipping out on work."

Frank pauses, looking at Jack "I thought you knew, you're the one that set up her trip to Chicago."

"Yes well, I wouldn't expect those of her own staff to know of her current whereabouts. She was on one of the first flights out of Chicago. On that flight." he indicates the tv screen, his voice only slightly cracking.

There's a dead silence as the writers piece together what Jack was saying.

"Blerg,"

***

Jack has never been one for expressing emotions. Often when he feels something heady coming on he tends to drown it out with a few glasses of scotch, the familiar burning sensation distracting him from whatever emotional pain the world causes him next.

After watching the news for what had seemed like hours to get any sort of new information, he had finally given up. No new word on any survivors of the crash. Why would there be? What are the odds that someone would survive a plane crash that wasn't part of a William Golding novel. He had gone up to his office, asked Jonathan to hold all calls coming through. Then proceeded to hoard the rest of his emergency stress-eating food stash from under Jonathan's desk. Soon after, had found the scotch bottle in his office and began the healing process.

This time, however, the Scotch seems to have no effect and the debilatating truth comes crashing down on him. Liz Lemon: his sounding board, his protégé, his best friend...Gone. He takes another sip of scotch, feeling the familiar burning sensation down his throat.

He had moved beyond his poor upbringing, went on to Princeton and became an executive for one of the biggest companies in the United States. He had driven a car into the Hudson just to practice escaping, showering with Gretta Van Sustren, shot a manatee. Yet, he wasn't able to protect that most dear to him.

His phone vibrated, but he chose to ignore it.

He smiled sickeningly at himself. He finally got it, he finally understood why he had always been chasing the neverending line of super-hot women he couldn't care less about. When you go through a series of detached relationship you never have to worry about that person ever having to leave you. The one night stands are mutual agreements between the two: to get your things and get out in the morning with never any connection whatsoever.

He smacked himself, what was he thinking? For the first time in his life he had had an amicable relationship for a woman, and now he was regretting it. Sure, they had started off kind of rocky, but evolved into a friendship where the other was willing to do almost anything for the other. From embarassing oneself in front of Six Sigma executives to encouraging the other to finding their own biological father. _All _things she had done for him. Damn it, he had never seen it before. Never seen how behind the frump girl clothes stood a strong woman willing to take crap from her own lazy writing staff and still have the time to stand behind her overbearing boss.

Jack sniffed, taking a handful of cheeseballs and trying to blame the moisture in his eyes from seasonal allergies. Yes that's right, allergies in the Fall.

Jonathan came through the door and encouraged him to take the call currently on hold. Turns out it was Gueiss, congratulating him on yet another successful season of Milf Island. When asked about his congestion Jack simply said he was getting over a cold. Because he chose work, he always chose work over his personal life. He wouldn't be sitting in his office mourning the death of a friend. He was commended on his willingness to go to work despite said illness.

After Geiss hung up, he turned to the monitor displaying the GE logo. He had sacrificed so much fo this company, and the one time he had put himself out there, to reach out to someone it had been taking away from him.

"Are you happy now, you son of a bitch?"

***

When Jack was finally able to return home, it was pouring rain. He didn't bother to take out an umbrella as he stepped out of the car, he was in too deep of thought to think about anything practical right now.

Jack was almost to the building when he stopped, thinking he was hearing someone call his name. He dismissed it, thinking it was just the wind, or maybe he was hearing voices. He was already starting to lose his mind. Before he could take another step he heard it again, louder this time. He turned, expecting to see someone calling someone else. Instead what he saw completely shocked him.

Elizabeth Lemon, in her TGS hoodie stumbled out of the taxi and called his name out again. He froze, he couldn't speak. Was he dreaming?

She ran up to him, lugging her suitcase while simultaneously trying to shield her face from the pelting rain with her hood.

"Jack! Why haven't you been answering my calls? What's going on? I got the taxi to drive me all the way to your building, I was worried something had happened to you...Jack?" She looked at him with big brown eyes of confusion, trying to discern why he was so silent.

"Lemon?" he finally said, confounded. "What are you doing here?"

"Look I'm sorry. I forgot to ask for a wake up call and my phone died in the middle of the night because I forgot my charger. I missed my flight this morning and got put on a later one."

He sighed, relived. Thank god for her clumsy forgetfullness.

" I tried calling you but you wouldn't pick up, I was worried something happened like...GE's stock plummeted or something and you-"

He surprised her then by cupping her face with his hands and fitting his mouth over hers. She stayed where she was, too surprised to reciprocate.

He pulled back ever so slightly, wiping the stray raindrops off her face with his thumbs and whispers "Thank God you're alive."

She looked into his eyes, studying his face then finally understands. "Jack, have you been crying?"

He internally sighed. Of course she wouldn't know about it, she watched Food Network as her daily news routine. He cleared his throat, "Of course not, allergies."

"I thought you said those were psychological."

" Then I was...chopping onions."

"In your office?"

He smiled. She was the only one he could never convince otherwise.

"Aww," she mocked "Did you miss me?"

"Don't ruin it, Lemon."

"Okay." She whispers against him. She pulls him back down and this time reciprocates his own kiss by opening her mouth on his, closing her eyes and just letting her heart guide her for once.

He closed his eyes and kissed her passionately, right there in the rain. He held her tight, like he never wanted to let go, and her never did, until.

"Jack can I come inside? It's freezing." Liz said as she hung close for warmth.

"Of course Lemon, of course."


End file.
